


We'll Dance On Our Graves With Our Bodies Below

by ASongForOurFathers



Category: Band of Brothers, The Pacific - Fandom
Genre: Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-27
Updated: 2013-03-12
Packaged: 2017-12-03 19:56:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/702011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ASongForOurFathers/pseuds/ASongForOurFathers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short drabbles about the relationships between these men. Title from the song Dance On Our Graves by Paper Route.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hoosier/Leckie

**Author's Note:**

> Note that English is not my native language and therefore there will probably be some grammatical errors but I have done my best to correct them. Also, I don't usually write fanfics but these wonderful two miniseries can't seem to leave my thoughts alone and I had to get all of these feelings out which resulted in some drabbles.  
> Each chapter will be about a certain couple with this first one being about Hoosier/Leckie. The next one will probably be about Chuckler/Runner or Andy/Eddie but we'll see of whom I want to write about.  
> I also want to point out - jesus, it feels as though I talk too much, my apologies - that I like to think that, while Hoosier aren't as interested in books like Leckie, he still keeps a phrase or two from a poem that reminds him of home and the people he care about.
> 
> OKAY!! Let's get this started. First go...  
> enjoy? 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own The Pacific or Band of Brothers nor do I mean any disrespect to the real veterans. This is based on the actors and their portrayals only.

 

# Chapter 1

 

Hoosier/Leckie

  
When Robert Leckie dreams he dreams of a pair of blue eyes and brown silky hair that he can comb his fingers through.  
Even on the other side of the world where they are constantly surrounded by death he hasn't lost that part of his imagination, hasn't lost the image of a once gloriously happy smile turning into a sad one as he says his farewell. He writes letters to her every day, this girl that he never really had the courage to talk to properly. He doesn't know whether he regrets that or not. He probably does but doesn't spend time dwelling on it.  
His friends makes sure of that, offering him drinks and pulling him away to tell him stories or make fun of his interest in literature, poems and famous authors. He's not offended by it, instead answers with a line or two from one of his favourites and basks in the bliss that is their confusion. It only keeps up until their next mission.

Cape Gloucester is an island born out of Mother Nature's unquenchable anger towards the humankind. It almost were a kind of a bless in the beginning with the rain keeping the mosquitoes away but they soon learned that it was just another trick, one to drive them away and keep them away. It takes its toll on them, even on Chuckler who's the ever optimist while Leckie himself is the realist.  
Chuckler quiets down and frowns more often than he smiles.  
It takes to see Gibson strangle a dying Jap for Leckie himself to lose his shit. It takes to see Lebec kill himself in the dead of night, rain thumping heavily against the few tents, for Leckie to accept that he probably won't survive this war.

He cries in his sleep when he's sure no one will hear him. His feet are cold and rotten, numb lumps on the end of his legs. He suddenly understands Lebec's train of thought. Almost thinks of doing the same only they are being shipped back to a place called Pavuvu to get some rest the next day and he forgets everything he was thinking about.

"At least there'll be no rain there." Chuckler jokes half-heartedly.

"But it's still no Melbourne." There's no argument to that. 

Gloucester has taken its toll in more ways than mentally. Leckie is stricken with enuresis, one of the more embarrassing sicknesses that make him piss his pants at night when he sleeps. It starts with a pain in his abdomen at day and at night he usually wakes up with a gasp only to find that the moistness of his bed is not caused by the humid air around him.  
He tries to stay awake. He spends the nights with Hoosier on the beach, passing a cigarette back and forth and Hoosier actually makes an effort to understand what it is that Leckie finds so interesting in books.

"There's a quote in one of them fancy poems you think suits me?" Hoosier mumbles one night, sharp eyes focused on one of the thousands of stars illuminating the night sky like diamonds spread over black silk. Leckie doesn't even try to hide the fact that he's spent some time trying to find something to describe Hoosier and his slouching shoulders to mask the hidden fierceness. He does not try to hide the fact that he hasn't come up with anything either.

"It would have been easier if you weren't such a nutcase." He snatches the cigarette from between Hoosier's lips and tries to ignore the slight pulling at his lips when Hoosier turns to glare at him, eyes blazing in the dark.

 _"My turn of mind is so given to taking things in the absurd point of view that it breaks out, in spite of me every now and then_. _"_ It's a whisper, a silent caress that takes him by surprise more than anything.

"You know Lord Byron?" Hoosier uses this momentum to snatch his cigarette back, fiddling with it for a while and smiles lazily down at it.

"I can read you know." Leckie snorts.

"I guess there's much more to you than meets the eye."

"If you'd paid enough of attention you would have noticed."

After that he does start to notice, does pay more of attention. He notices torn out pages Hoosier keeps with him in his pocket all the time that he sometimes takes out to read.  
He notices the way Hoosier perks up a little bit every time Leckie is about to read something he has written and how he stares intently at the side of his neck.  
It's all such small things, things that really shouldn't matter, things that make his feelings change into something forbidden but yet something so many others feel, and it leads to him forgetting something. He no longer dreams of silky brown hair and gentle blue eyes. He dreams of mud, of blue eyes as sharp as the owner's wit, of short dirty blonde hair and of calloused fingers that are strong but yet so gentle when they run through the fur of a scared dog when they're buried underground and bombs are falling down all around them, silently whispering into the darkness that it's going to be okay. That it's okay.

That _he's_ okay.

 


	2. Eddie/Andy

# Chapter 2

  
  
  
  
  
Eddie/Andy  
  
It is dark outside when Andrew decides his cabin is far too cramped and he makes his way up the narrow stairs to the deck above.  
There’s no one outside because of the late hour and the only light is that of the bright moon hanging low in the velvety black sky. The rumbling of the engines are not as loud up here as it is downstairs and the crashing of the waves against the ship is suddenly so much clearer. He takes a minute to appreciate the silence up here when downstairs, the only you could hear was the engines, the laughter of the men and cheers erupting when someone did something particularly nasty towards somebody else. He takes a deep breath, thoroughly enjoying the fresh salty air and he slowly feels himself relax. Shoulders who, before had been hunched was now being dropped.  
  
Except for the moon there is no lamp or candle at all to illuminate the place now that they are so close to enemy territory and it’s not hard to pick out the weak glow of a cigarette, hiding in the shadows near the railing. There’s a silhouette of a man accompanying it, curly hair and green dungarees with the legs neatly tucked into his boots. Andy would recognise that silhouette anywhere. He slowly walks across the empty space between them to lean against the railing, looking up at the stars and the moon, feeling something settle on the side of his head: the curious gaze of,  
  
“Eddie.” He mumbles quietly but loud enough to reach Eddie’s ears. “I thought you would be asleep by now.” Eddie snorts loudly but his lips are curled up into smile, a plume of smoke rising into the sky.  
  
“You heard the baboons downstairs. Ain’t nobody sleeping with that much noise in the background.” He shrugs and lazily throws the remains of the cigarette into the water. Andy watches it fall, a dot of bright orange before the water closes around it and kills the flame.  
  
“What ‘bout you? The men too loud for you as well or are you just too excited about tomorrow?” His accent is Southern and Andy has always been kind of fascinated with how lilting it is compared to those up north.  
Eddie leans against the railing next to Andy with his back turned to the ocean. This makes it easier for both to look at each other when they speak and they don’t really have to crane their necks.  
  
“Not excited perhaps but nervous. That’s not it though. I just needed some fresh air.” Eddie nods in agreement.  
  
“You went for fresh air and ended up here beside a smoker who was looking for some solitude.” He grins. “But ’m glad you came. This gives me an excuse to stay here for a little while longer.”  
  
“Glad to be of some use.”  
  
They fall into an easy silence after that. Andy can’t help but think that Eddie’s only like this when he’s around and it’s oddly warming in a way.  
  
Eddie sends Andy fond smiles when he thinks he’s not looking and it hits him that Eddie is probably the best friend he’ll ever have. They naturally seem to gravitate towards each other. If you saw one of them there was a possibility that the other hovered somewhere nearby like a guardian angel.  
  
They get through Guadalcanal with not so much of a scrap on their bodies and while they are happy, they do not celebrate. They lounge tiredly in each other’s rooms and takes comfort in the other one’s presence because now they know the real fears of battle. They know the horrors and the dangers.  
  
Andy is afraid, not of dying but of losing his friends and men. Eddie is afraid as well though he masks it far too well for Andy to really tell.  
  
But it doesn’t matter right now. Right now, they have each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't what I think of this.... I don't have much time to write on my way to school and back so these chapters will all probably be very short.  
> Once again, I apologize for any grammatical errors and enjoy!


	3. Chuckler/Runner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know anymore, I should just go to sleep already because the things I write don't even make sense to me anymore... This came out a bit late but school has been kind of stressful and it feels as though I haven't touched a computer or used my phone in ages. This is what I had time for today.  
> I absolutely adore Chuckler/Runner and to me they are the most obvious one(except for Snafu/Sledge and Eddie/Andy). It's sad there aren't more fics about them out there.

# Chapter 3

 

 

 

Chuckler/Runner

It’s easily said that Chuckler and Runner are the most loyal to each other and the ones in their inner circle, such as Leckie and Hoosier. They’re always together, always seems to be smiling at an inside joke only they know while the world around them remains oblivious, and the world is happy to stay that way because their optimism is enough for the rest to smile as well.   
  
Runner likes it quite a bit, this easy going relationship he has going on. Chuckler is like this weird extra limb, one that perhaps shouldn't exist but he knows all too well even so.  
They naturally seems to gravitate towards one another and casual touches comes to them just as easily as if they were talking.  
  
Chuckler doesn’t mind. It only means that he has found himself a buddy that would help him annoy the living shit out of Leckie – except that it doesn’t really affect him at all as he is incapable of letting Runner and Chuckler annoy him, which is fine really because Leckie compensates with a sarcasm that matches Hoosier’s and it’s really funny.  
  
There’s not much action on Guadalcanal and they spend most of their time there patrolling the forest. At night, they sleep tightly pressed against each other to keep some of the warmth. Sometimes, they sleep pressed together for the sake of comfort as the japanese drops bombs onto the ground above, barely missing their shelter.  
  
It’s only a matter of time berfore it would evolve into something else, innocent brushes against the back of a knee, an arm accidentally thrown around the others waist in their sleep turns into careful kisses and wandering hands.  
  
You see, Chuckler is a sexual person by nature and he needs some _release_ to function properly, or so he says as he walks around and behind a tree at the outskirt of camp one morning.  Runner is mostly the same, not exactly but still the same. He understands the desperation most of the men around feel. So he helps Chuckler out.   
  
They share stories of girls; most of them they probably make up as they go but it gets the job done and both of them are feeling a little bit more relaxed the next day.  
Sometimes helping out also means giving blowjobs and/or rutting against each other at night with their friends sleeping next to them. It slowly becomes a sort of routine for them.  
  
At Melbourne there are women waiting for them and they take a pause in what they are doing.   
Chuckler finds himself a nice Australian girl with soft skin and even softer lips. He disappears more often and Runner spends his time alternating between taking care of a sick Hoosier and spending time at the bar with Gibson. He’s fine with it as long as Chuckler doesn’t get into any trouble without Runner being there to help him out of it.  
  
It’s their sixth night in Melbourne when Chuckler wakes him up, his touch a familiar weight on the side of his neck. It’s almost tender.  
  
“Don’t you have a girl to entertain you now?” Runner grumbles annoyingly, wanting sleep so bad.  
  
“Are you bored of me already?” Chuckler jokes, gently shoving Runner aside so he can climb in alongside him. Runner snorts loudly.  
  
“As if I could get bored of you. What’s up? Do not tell me you just woke me up because you wanted to cuddle because let me tell you, cobber. I’m _not_ in the mood for a cuddle right now.”  
  
“What about naked cuddling?” Runner doesn’t breath. He can feel Chucklers breath against his cheek and the heat radiating from his body. Hoosier snores somewhere in the background just like almost every other marine in the stadium. Somebody might even be awake to hear them.  
  
“I don’t know, you offering?” he whispers, licking his lips in the dark. There’s a weird fluttering feeling in his chest when Chuckler moves beside him and casually throws an arm over his stomach.  
  
“Wasn’t that what I just did?” Chuckler asks, lips pulled into a broad smile that shows his teeth.  
  
“No. If you had been offering you would have said ‘what about naked cuddling withme’ or some shit like that. That back there was nothing but an innocent question asking me if I _would_ be okay with it.”  
  
If Chuckler kicks his shins he doesn’t comment on it. He’s too fucking tired.  
  
“But if you return an hour earlier tomorrow we might work something out.” He yawns. “Now can I please get back to sleep?”  
  
“Nope.” Chuckler answers and squeezes. They stay mostly silent after that, sometimes exchanging stories of what had happened while the other one was gone. Chuckler talks about the girl he had met and what they had gotten around to doing since they got there and Runner does his best not to fall asleep.  
  
Chuckler does not leave his side until someone, perhaps Sid, rolls around in his bed and falls of it with a heavy thump. Runner doesn’t really complain, can’t complain when Chuckler presses a careful kiss to the side of his mouth before jumping of the cot and climbing into his own.


End file.
